The Potentate: R.I.P.
The game is over. And I don't mean the one involving Royal Host, UFCW and their other corrupt friends. That one ended a few days ago. I'm referring to a bigger game.
It really hit me last night. Way too fucking hard. But I'm very happy and relieved that it did. I think it was the combination of horrid fast food, a joint and MFD-oriented thoughts. I'm giving up the pot. Hopefully for good this time.
And with the pot... goes the Potentate.
Yes, I have decided to retire member #666, the founder of the International Shit Disturbers Union, affectionately known to all as the ISDU Potentate.
You're all aghast. You can't comprehend this. You're all on the verge of flooding tears. Hey, it's my story so you better damn well play along. Grab those tissues!!
The birth of a Potentate
It was on only a few months back that the Potentate emerged with his first thoughts...
Ask for a real union and you shall receive.
Ask for education and you shall learn.
First lesson...
You are not going to hell. You are currently in hell. You're a powerless piss-ant.
Lesson over.
This was followed a few days later with...
"The suit asks for the money to be returned and removal of the trustees."
That's nice. They must have skipped the part where it asks for a gang anal raping.
You can steal million from the PP's (Personal Playgrounds) or from any corporation you're running and you get nothing... except for a minor headache and a nice balance in an offshore account.
ISDU justice soon.
It began in spurts. Little bothersome thoughts and ideas that needed an outlet. Thoughts that had been simmering and suppressed for way too long. They were tinged with evil. "Brutal" honesty. It was time for all hell to break loose.
Behind the Potentate's Mask
Ever hear the phrase "nice guys finish last"? It was a maxim of mine for a long time. Something I had observed, something I had lived and experienced. The problem with that thought is that it's a self-fulfilling prophecy... an esteem killer. Then there is the added kick to the balls as you watch assholes put on a nice guy act in order to take advantage of whatever the situation is. Two-faces are usually better than one. Look at the government, the unions and corporations. Two many faces.
Life is unfair to a lot of people, and I've sampled enough of that pie. My blessings have also been my life curse. The greater the blessing, the greater the curse it can be. All life balances itself out on some level. It has to. And maybe there were points where I really wasn't a nice guy. In fact, thinking about it there were many. I just hope that those times don't outweigh or overshadow the good.
Anyway, most readers by now know of the Travelodge Mondo Condo. The hotel where the Potentate spent many years of his life. It was part of him. At work and away from work. He met all the players, served all the big boys, and basically lived the hotel's yet-to-be fully detailed history. A sixth-sense to the place existed. No one else can claim a higher percentage of their lifetime spent in there. Well maybe a couple can, but I'd have to pull out a calculator.
The hotel drew me in, kept me there. I was fascinated by how differently the rules of business played out at that property. Nothing ever made sense. Moronic, incompetent management decisions could never take the place down. It was a puzzle from day one. The union merry-go-rounds and fucked-up negotiations kept me entertained over the years. There was always a story. From Chretien almost blowing up, to the beach party theme night debacle at the lounge bar... complete with lots and lots and lots of sand.
A few years ago, things started to get really fishy. I won't detail it all (the Mondo Condo stories and threads tell a lot). It was obviously not above board or a good thing for the staff. Inquiries were made. And the bullshit that we were being fed was only making us more angry. It was really bad bullshit. Didn't even need a sixth-sense to know it. But what do you do? Arguing with two-faces is not an easy task. Or fun. And I myself was pissed that I had to go through it.
I walked. I quit in a sense. I had always wanted to be "in the loop"... on the front lines...a shop-steward knowing the issues currently in play. But unfortunately I had to learn that I never was in the loop, and any attempt to question just pushed me even further out of whatever false "loop" existed.
I thought this would free me... but actually it chained and destroyed me at the same time. I had gone in search of the truth. I sit here looking at the shop steward resignation letter which I composed on April 26, 2004. Exactly one year ago I made it official. In the letter I lied through my teeth. It was "nice". It should have said "this is bullshit, I've had enough, and fuck you". That was the day that I destroyed a part of myself. Stuff like that hurts. MFD members were now the only help available and I'm thankful that I had found them (although they were the cause of my original iniquiries that led... well I won't hold a grudge).
I had no clue what I was getting into with this search. Every bit of research we did led to some other puzzle. It was a bottomless pit. Layer upon layer. And the further we dug, the more frightened I became. In my mind, this was the type of shit you don't step into unless you're fully committed. I thought I was committed, but the game kept changing and getting tougher. Player after player kept getting added. I had this saying about "not playing a game where I don't think I can win". It's actually pretty stupid because that's the only way you learn. But in this situation I think the quote is allowed. Most people would quit. But I had to believe we could "win" because the alternative was to give up on and lose what was started...then have to live with the status quo... plus any additional consequences. That is a hellish thought. And I lived with it for some time. So it was gung-ho straight ahead and hope for the best.
These thoughts directly led to a long sick leave. I spent time in hell. My own personal hell on earth. And it caused a different kind of hell for those close to me. I owe a lot to many. The more I think about it, the more I see that the amount of "nice guy" I showed to them in my life was nothing compared to what they showed to me. Maybe I over-rated that part of me? And I've always hated the "owing" feeling, so it's still not easy to think about. I can only start with a sorry and a thank you.
Tribute to Ozzy
John Michael Osbourne exists.
John is the guy who went on to become the loved, feared and laughed at Ozzy Osbourne. Entertainers are real people... putting on an act. A mask. It's normally meant to be a fun escape. They don't start off as their characters, although they do use their own personal lives in order to flush them out. It's a form of therapy... a way of analyzing, dealing with and expressing your own 'self'. The problems start when the 'character' begins to become too much a part of your own reality. Any actor that has been type-cast can attest to that. You're no longer you. You're the character and no matter how much you hate it, that character affects your personal life. It becomes your hell. Talk to a adult version child-actor. Self-destruction becomes easier when you're trying to destroy more than one person within.
I look at a guy like Ozzy and I feel really sorry for him. He's judged before he's listened to. I think it's been like that all his life. I don't think John Michael is or ever wanted to be 'evil'. He was hoping to be listened to and found a way for it to happen... somewhat. He had to go over-the-top. And I fully understand that. Ozzy hoped that at least someone would notice. It was his version of a plea for help.
This is the type of thinking that led to the Potentate's creation. I needed a caricature of evil. I needed a second-face for a nice guy. Think about the good-cop/bad-cop routine. The bad cop is there to scare you into dealing with the good cop. And it works well. I fed off every cocky bastard I've ever met. I got to fight the bible-thumpers. I swore like a mother-fucker! And it was a fun release. I got to say everything that a 'nice guy' would normally keep inside. It's funny that up until a couple years ago, I never had much use for negative wording except for the occasional 'shit' or 'damn'. But the Potentate had lots of use for it.
Privately I started receiving compliments on my 'reporting'. I made targets uncomfortable. A few said that the swearing was shocking and might hurt me audience-wise. My goal was to get noticed. And those that thought I was going about it the wrong way... still noticed. What I had hoped for was that if you take the time to peel back the evil add-ons, there might be some worthwhile thoughts there. It's like watching a train-wreck. Hopefully some would then research the cause of it.
Strip the swearing, the blackness, the evil symbolism away and then John and I emerge...
I'm just a dreamer, I dream my life away, oh yeah
I'm just a dreamer, who dreams of better days
That's still me. But lately I've noticed that the Potentate was pushing his way into my day-to-day life. What was originally written out of fun was turning into a chore. Yes, the anger was mine. I've always had that stuff somewhere in me. But accessing it so frequently was changing my regular life. I smile a lot. I laugh. I'm usually a pretty healthy guy. But I realize that the feeling of having to always top one-self, to be angry on command, is not the healthiest. People (and possibly the Potentate himself) expect something that I've decided I'm not willing to provide. It's a vicious cycle I want no part of. Look at Ozzy's problems.
He can't escape Ozzy. He's boxed himself in.
ISDU, 666 and the Title
MFD had saved this number for me. I wanted it for shock value. And it worked pretty quickly. There was more religious discussion going on at MFD when the Potentate emerged than at any other time. I don't want to think or rant about the number for too long. I do think it's superstitious, just like removing the 13th floor of a building would be. Try explaining to the 14th floor residents why they had to become the actual 13th. Was it fair to them?
A message-board member with any number can be more evil than one with #666. A union local of any number can be more evil than a Local 666.
666 in itself is not evil. It's a number. Evil is evil. If you choose to work evil through that number, so be it. But I'm sure that the real bad-boys aren't being so blatant about their 'affiliation'.
The ISDU. The International Shit Disturbers Union. Pot's baby. Really, what's the point? It was just to get the 'shit-disturbing' term into the mainstream. The real ISDU has always been MFD. Members for Democracy. I'm a member. No more, no less. There are tons of people here smarter and more knowledgeable than me. More life experience. And I've learned a lot from then. I hope to continue learning.
Definitions of Potentate:
- dictator: a ruler who is unconstrained by law
- One with potent, usually supreme, power, such as a monarch or a dictator. This term is often used to describe an ambassador performing negotiations on behalf of a large group.
I've hated this name for a long time. I'm sure most readers looked it up, which is a positive, but it was a misnomer for what the ISDU represented. Where did it come from? I grew up right next to a Shriner's Temple in Toronto. One of those rich old-white-boy Mason meeting places. And they had these parking spots reserved for different officials. I remember one being kept for the 'Supreme Potentate'. I'm sure I served whoever the guy was, since the Shriners always held their conventions at the Mondo Condo.
That's some type of club. Hospitality suites were created in their honour.
Anyway, the definition of this word is what I hate. It's full of pride and holier-than-thou-ness. I've played the roll and it is intoxicating (which means... run). I consider most corporate and government leaders to be Potentates. Laws don't seem to apply to them. The few that do have no teeth.
One day, I hope they will.
The Potentate's Battle with Royal Host, UFCW, and Their Other Corrupt Friends
It's not Pot's battle anymore.
He declared a checkmate when enough proof of wrong-doing surfaced to complete the daisy-chain. Enough stuff has been exposed. The pattern and connected names are all there. Sure, there is more to plug in, but this is now a case study. MFD will go on plugging the holes and teaching. The players involved now face their own problems. They still have their own game to play and from experience, I'm predicting hell for them. There's a biblical line... 'the truth shall set you free'. I'm not thumping. The original deals with a specific truth, but I'm using it in a general sense because I believe it. I feel that honesty and truth will be hard things to combat for the remaining players. Most of them have never thought along those lines. And most will destroy themselves by refusing to be honest until the bitter end.
It won't be pretty.
A quick story
A couple days ago, I entered a government office with an MFD friend... a place that few in the general public will ever get to see. This was high-end Toronto. The government logo was massive. The hallway was massive. The reception area was massive. The place was immaculately clean.
At no time were there more than 4-5 people in the place. The two employees we encountered were rude and incompetent. The one employee that we wanted to run into... decided to avoid us that day.
I looked around and had two thoughts...
1) I had spent the first 25 years of my life, living with a family of 4 in less square footage than this office had.
2) What a waste of cash!
I won't get into their fees (we learned of some new ones that we all pay without realizing), except to say that their outrageous fees are in line with the 'waste of cash-ness' the place exudes. Following that, this weekend I heard a story about a very pregnant homeless girl that was living in a cardboard box downtown. It linked me back to that waste of cash thought. It's not bad enough they steal it on the back end. It's not bad enough they gouge the people out front. But then they go out and... just waste it.
Wow, I've convinced myself that I can still tell a story without the Potentate's help.
Let's fade him to black.
Elvis Viskovic